Heart Of The Goblin King (The Realm Trilogy Book 1) Page 9

  “Claire…” My dad found his voice, his hand still gripping mine tightly.

  “I am not surprised,” Nerida spoke up. “We choose our children’s mates. It’s unheard of for the children to marry otherwise.”

  “Rather pushy and barbaric, isn’t it?” I couldn’t believe how much my mom could keep up with conversation. Normally, this much tired her out, and she’d be napping by now. Taranath was right. The presence of other fae did help.

  “Of course not!” Nerida sounded impatient. “A good parent talks with their child, knows them well, and selects a mate based on that. It’s not a random choice, done on a whim.”

  “Yes, Brennan is most content with your choice, isn’t he?” Taranath spoke quietly still, not turning around when he asked.

  I had to keep myself from speaking up, from saying NO! to the thought of Brennan marrying anyone. What did I care if he married some poor, unfortunate girl? Why hadn’t he mentioned that fact? You know, when he was carrying me? Nerida’s words dragged me away from examining this matter.

  “Brennan is not the matter at hand. Claire, how can we get in touch with your mother?”

  Mom opened her eyes and looked at Dad. An entire conversation flew between them. His shoulders sagged.

  “I’ll call.” He let go of my hand, and went to get the phone.

  In a moment he was back, dialing the numbers. I didn’t realize that they kept up with their parents like that. Maybe it had happened when Mom got sick.

  “Hello, Mara? This is Paul Mattingly. Claire—”

  The phone was snatched from his hand by Nerida. She moved faster than anyone realized. She spoke rapid-fire into the receiver in a language no one could understand. A pause, and then more rapid fire speech.

  She smiled, a smug smile of satisfaction, and looked around at the rest of us. Even Taranath had looked up to see her progress.

  “Yes, Imara, I am here. With your daughter, who is dying. If you wish her to live, you will need to come here. At once.”

  I could hear the grandmother I’d never met speaking, but couldn’t make out the words.

  “I can open a portal for you. Mage,” she moved the phone from her ear, “I need you to help me. Imara,” This to the phone again, “Concentrate on me. And your daughter.” She handed the phone to Dad, who took it silently.

  If I wasn’t watching this, I wouldn’t believe it.

  Taranath stood, after patting Mom’s shoulder, and took Nerida’s hand. They both closed their eyes, and I could hear a hum. This wasn’t like when we came through. This whole portal business didn’t seem to have any rules or general guidelines for how it was done.

  A bright light grew from a spark in the middle of the living room. Dad drew back, taking my arm and pulling me with him back against the sofa, shielding me and Mom. I let him, even though I knew it would be okay.

  The light grew and grew. Mom lifted her hand to her eyes, and suddenly, the light had a shadow across it. A tall, lovely woman with fair skin, who did not look like a grandmother should, stepped from the light.

  “Mom,” said my mother weakly. “You’re really here.” She closed her eyes.

  “Oh, Claire.” For all that I’d heard of her, Imara went straight to Mom, pushing past Taranath, and falling to her knees to take one of Mom’s hands. She brushed Mom’s cheek with her hand. The expression on her face nearly made me cry. It shifted as her gaze turned from my mom to my dad.

  “Why did you not call me?”

  He stiffened. “You wanted nothing to do with her before, not even when Iris was born. Why would we think now any different?”

  I felt so proud of my dad. I knew his heart broke every time he looked at Mom. I knew it had been hard to call the woman who had cast Mom out. I knew he had a fair amount of anger towards my grandmother, but that moment his voice held steady, his head was high, and he didn’t cower before her. I had to admit, her gaze fell into the ferocious category.

  “My daughter is ill. You should have called.” Imara pinned my father with her look.

  “You didn’t even care about Iris,” Mom whispered. All eyes went to her. “Paul’s right. Why would we think you would care if I was sick?”

  Imara stroked Mom’s cheek again. “You are my child. I will always love you.”

  “Great way you have of showing it,” my dad said, with a ton of bitterness in his words. “Hey, at least it’s nice you’ve showed up now. I’ll give you that.” He stood, after giving my mom’s hand a squeeze, and turned his back on everyone in the room by walking to the doorway to the kitchen and leaning against it.

  I could practically feel his anger. I didn’t blame him, but I appreciated that he made the effort to keep his temper from exploding all over the place. I didn’t think that anyone else knew how much restraint he had.

  My grandmother—how weird to even think that after not having her around or part of my life before now—looked at him, and I saw a moment of sadness pass across her face. As quickly as I’d seen it, it disappeared. She turned back to Mom.

  “I do wish you’d contacted me. I also wish I’d not been so stubborn and pigheaded,” she said quietly.

  Mom smiled. “That makes two, no four of us. I’ve missed you so much, Mom.” She sighed, and closed her eyes. Then opened them again. “You’ve missed so much of Iris’s life. Look at her. She’s beautiful, just like you.”

  “Just like you,” Imara said, not taking her eyes from Mom. Then that intense gaze turned to me. “But she is beautiful. It runs in the family.”

  My dad stiffened, and I ached for him. My head swiveled back and forth between where he stood and my mom and grandmother. I couldn’t tell if my grandmother was being insulting or not. I hoped that he would be able to keep it together.

  “Can you help her?” I asked. Touching as it was to see my mom reunited with her mom, this wasn’t moving us forward towards the goal, the goal of healing my mom.

  Imara looked up. “I don’t know. It’s been a long time since I used anything of my fae side.”

  “It’s all your fae side,” Nerida interrupted impatiently. “You have no other side.”

  “How little you know of the Human Realm,” Imara stood, keeping a hand on Mom’s shoulder. The frost had returned to her expression as she looked at Nerida. I suddenly remembered Nerida’s look when we had first discussed my grandmother, back in Fae. There was obviously history here.

  “Things are not as you might assume. This is not Fae, Nerida,” Imara continued. “I can tell the difference, being here with you and this one,” she gestured at Taranath,” But I haven’t practiced magic in years.”

  “How could you not?” Taranath, silent until now, spoke up. “Didn’t you miss it, in some form?”

  “It’s not easy for everyone,” Imara snapped. “Surely you’re aware of that. Are you not a mage?”

  “I am,” Taranath answered calmly.

  Imara gave a small, tight nod. “I presumed as much. No need to drag you here otherwise. Are you part of this mission to help Claire?”

  He nodded. “I am. Your granddaughter is most persuasive, and I am sworn to help fae in need. There are no limits on how much of a fae one must be. Claire is fae, thus I must try to help.”

  “What are you going to do?” They spoke as though no one else was in the room with them.

  That didn’t sit well with Nerida. “We are going to do what we can,” she interrupted. “It will take all of us.”

  “Not Iris,” My dad turned to face everyone once more. “Whatever this is, if Claire agrees, I’m not going to stop you from trying to help her. But not with Iris’s help. Whatever the hell it is you’re doing, she’s not going to be part of it. I won’t lose her too.”

  Mom spoke up then. “I agree with you, sweetheart. Iris is not to be part of this.”

  “Don’t I get a say in this?” I interrupted angrily.

  “No!” Mom and Dad spoke together.

  A moment of silence, and then everyone but me started to laugh. Not a lot, more of
a whisper of a laugh than anything else, but the mood, the pressure, the atmosphere lightened.

  Suddenly, I felt about five years old with how all the adults in the room were looking at me.

  “Let’s get on with this,” Imara said, a rough tone to her voice.

  “We need to gather around Claire,” Taranath took charge. “Paul, we’ll need your help also. It’s important to have someone present who loves her dearly.”

  Imara glared at him. My dad, however, hesitated.

  “Will this hurt me?”

  “Are you afraid?” Taranath asked as Imara and Nerida rounded on him, both of them ready to tear into him.

  Dad walked back to Mom and held up a hand. I could feel the anger coming off of him. “I’m not afraid for myself!” He said scornfully to the two women. “However, if this grand plan of yours doesn’t work, Claire will still…die. I don’t want anything to happen that will leave Iris an orphan.”

  The anger faded immediately from both Imara and Nerida. I took two steps to my dad and took his hand. “I’ll be okay, Dad.”

  He kissed the top of my head and hugged me with his other arm. “I’m not ready to leave you on your own yet, honey.”

  “It’s a fair question,” Mom whispered.

  “You will be all right. Tired and in need of rest afterwards,” Taranath said, “But you will not be harmed. I will take care to ensure we don’t take too much from you.”

  “What are you taking?” Mom asked before Dad or I could.

  “Energy,” Taranath said. “Magic is draining, no matter how skilled one is with it. If we can help you, I am guessing it will take a great deal of energy to do so. So the four of us will need to pool our resources, as it were.” He smiled at me, letting me know it was okay that I wouldn’t be part of those providing help.

  That pissed me off, but my parents were on the same page, so I knew I wouldn’t get anywhere with them.

  “Everyone take hands, please.” Taranath moved around Imara to stand close to Mom. “Imara, take her other hand. Paul, Nerida, I will need you to complete our circle.”

  I watched as this unlikely group of people all did as he told them, taking hold of one another’s hands. It looked like the craziest grouping of Duck, Duck, Goose ever. I had to sit on a little giggle that threatened to escape. I wasn’t laughing. I could feel myself as tense as I’d ever been, and on the verge of losing control in some way. The stress of everything that had happened was catching up to me. Maybe Dad was right to insist that I stay back. Not that I’d admit it. I wondered, crazily, if I could get a picture of this. The thought of what Nerida, or my grandmother, would do if displeased made me stop reaching for my phone.

  Taranath took Mom’s hand and closed his eyes. He began to chant in a different language. I’m guessing the Fae language. I closed my eyes too, to listen. His voice had a soothing, hypnotic quality.

  It felt warmer. I opened my eyes a little bit, and took a step back. Taranath had a glow around him, and the glow moved down his arm and towards my mom.

  In spite of knowing he meant to help her, it scared me to see that light moving towards my mom. I could feel my hands itching to separate her from Taranath, from whatever it was that they were doing to her.

  I took a step forward.

  Brennan

  He paced in the lounge, wanting to lash out, to hit something, to knock things over and hear the satisfying crash of things breaking.

  Although he knew his mother wasn’t a nitwit, this certainly put that supposition to the test. What in the name of all that was sane was she thinking? Had she stopped thinking? What had led her to believe that leaving with Iris and his mage was in any way a good idea?

  His frustration spilled over. “Damn that meddling woman!”

  Drake chose that moment to put his opinion in. “I’m sure that she felt this was a good idea.”

  Brennan ran his hands through his hair. “Why? Why involve herself in this? Over one human girl.”

  “She’s more than that,” Drake’s voice lost its teasing tone. “I won’t allow you to ignore that.”

  “I plan to do just that,” Brennan said in what he hoped sounded like an unconcerned voice. “While annoying, as are most things that Mother takes it into her head to get involved in, it will allow you and I to figure out what is going on in our kingdom. I do have a kingdom to run. In case it’s slipped your mind.”

  Drake gave him a wry smile, one that said he wasn’t bothered by Brennan’s lofty manner. “I am always at your service, Majesty, as you are well aware.”

  “Good. I’m glad to see you remember what it is we need to focus on. Let’s portal to the clearing where we were ambushed and see if there are any of the goblins left.” Brennan’s face fell, remembering the fallen numbers of his people. “We will also need to find their families, if we can.”

  Drake nodded. Brennan appreciated that he didn’t offer any quips or light-hearted remarks. The sight of all the fallen must have stayed with Drake as well.

  “I think that we can manage it, even without a mage,” Drake said.

  “Let’s be a bit more prepared. Wear your armor and take more than just your sword.”

  Drake nodded again and left the room silently. Brennan went to the back room of his chamber, opening the cupboard where his armor resided. He couldn’t remember the last time that he’d had to wear it, outside of ceremonial events.

  Like his engagement.

  He shoved the thoughts of Ailla aside. He had enough to consider without adding Drake’s comments about the match to it.

  Why then did those very comments keep running through his head like goblin children at the end of a feast day?

  He shook his head and armed himself. He slid his long-bladed sword into the scabbard hanging by his side and crossed two more short swords in a back harness. Better to be over-prepared than caught unawares as they’d been before. He knew how lucky he and Drake were to have not suffered worse than being cast into the Human Realm.

  Other than meeting Iris.

  No, he thought. No. I will not think about her.

  His thoughts were mercifully interrupted by Drake’s return.

  “I see we think alike,” Drake grinned at Brennan’s crossed pair of swords.

  Brennan returned the grin. He and Drake had been working at swordplay for years. They were formidable. Prepared, aware, and with six swords between them, they would be a match for even the scarred, traitorous, murdering fae sorcerer.

  “Let’s go,” his grin deepened. He knew he looked more like his subjects when he headed into anything resembling a battle. It was as though being the Goblin King for so many years had altered him. Drake told him that his teeth lengthened and sharpened, like the goblins. His eyes darkened from their normal brilliant blue, and his thoughts became narrower and focused.

  “I hope we meet him again.”

  Pulling a crystal from his side pouch, he tossed it in front of them with a sharp phrase, and a blur of light appeared.

  Together, he and Drake stepped into the light.

  ***

  An hour later, Brennan had to admit defeat. He and Drake had been all over the clearing. They could find no side of the scarred mage.

  The fallen goblins still lay where they fell. Brennan walked among them, sorrow replacing the warlike feelings he’d had such a short time ago. He knew some of these goblins. They’d been in the castle, or were clan to those who lived near the castle.

  Reluctantly, he opened another portal and summoned his steward.

  Tall and skeletal, Bronoor didn’t truly look like a goblin. Brennan suspected that he had fae blood due to his height and some of his facial features. He’d not dare mention it to Bronoor, however. The goblin was one of the proudest he’d ever met.

  Stoic though Bronoor was, his mouth fell open as he stepped through the portal to join his sovereign.

  “Your Majesty, what has happened here?”

  “Drake and I were attacked yesterday.” Was it only yesterday? Iris had
set everything on its head. “We were able to fight them off, but unfortunately many perished. I want to bring them home, Bronoor. Find their families. Take care of them.”

  The scale of death hit him and he stopped speaking, overcome.

  “But why would they attack you?” The disbelief stood out in Bronoor’s question.

  “I wish I knew. We stopped to have something to drink and eat, and they came rushing from the trees. It’s well known that I stop here. I like the peace this clearing offers. Offered,” he amended. “Once Drake and I were able to overcome them, a tall, scarred fae appeared. He told me I needed to agree to surrender the throne.”

  Bronoor gave the closest thing to a gasp that Brennan had ever heard from him.

  “He did not!”

  “He did. I, of course, declined such a demand, and he cast us into the Human Realm.”

  “This is a powerful magician,” Bronoor looked thoughtful, although the horror of the situation hadn’t left his features. “How did he convince all these goblins—I know some of them, and they were good and loyal—into daring to attack you?” His voice rose in indignation.

  “I am hoping that you will be able to help me discover just that,” Brennan said. “I cannot believe that they could be so angry or so unhappy without anyone mentioning it. Is there unrest I am not aware of?”

  Drake had come to stand with them. Brennan glanced at the man who was his brother in all the ways that mattered. He could see the same sorrow he himself felt.

  “We will discover it. I wouldn’t be surprised to find that the accursed Scarface who has disappeared at the heart of it.”

  “Your Majesty, I will return with help,” Bronoor bowed his head and walked away to organize the removal of the bodies.

  Brennan nodded to him.

  “Well, of course,” he said, continuing the conversation with Drake. He looked around the clearing. “But what could he have told them, Drake? What prompted this? We haven’t seen this sort of open rebellion since before I came to the throne. I have been going over and over this in my head. I keep seeing them,” he looked down, overcome at the memories. “They came with swords raised, and anger and hate written all over them. They were ready to die.” He looked back at Drake. “You know that it takes something very powerful to push anyone, fae, goblin, dwarf, dragon—”